Fuck Valentine's Day(2)

By: C.M. Stunich



“Jackass,” I mumbled and nearly exploded out of my skin when a warm hand brushed against my arm. I glanced up and found Preston standing above me with a stack of papers in his left hand. He was staring down at me with this little smirk on his face that seemed at odds with the sweater and the dorky glasses.

“It's kind of big,” he told me as his fingers flitted across my arm and gave me goose bumps. “Do you think you can handle it?” I stared at the hottest geek the world had ever seen and tried not to gawp. And failed. You are practically drooling, Andi, shut your damn mouth. It wasn't until a bit of saliva hit me in the tits that I managed to get a hold of myself.

“Huh?” I asked, convinced that I was dreaming and that I was only seconds away from seeing Preston whip out his cock and show me the meaning of the word sore. I mean, the man had massively huge hands with long, sexy fingers and his feet were at least twice the size of mine. I wasn't claiming to be an expert on men or anything (virgin, remember?), but I did watch a lot of porn and there is definitely a correlation between hands, feet, and cocks.

“The stack,” he said as he handed me a sheet of formulas. “It's really heavy. Can you handle it?”

“Oh.” I took the papers from him and tried not to sound disappointed. Damn it. I could've used a nice wet daydream to start the day off right. “Of course.” Preston winked at me and ran one his big hands down his flat, sexy chest which looked damn good, even in that ugly sweater, and turned away with a wink. Seconds later, the papers (who were absolutely, one hundred percent out to get me), slid from my hands and flitted across the floor in all directions like a flock of birds.

Preston paused and glanced back at me, dark brows raised skeptically.

Way to impress, Andi. Nice job.

I'd been stalking Preston Ellis for the past two years, signing up for the classes I knew he'd be in, watching his ass as he wrote up formulas as our class's student assistant, and I'd failed to impress him. Heck, I'd failed to impress any guy ever. I was sort of an epic fail when it came to dudes. Twenty-two, perpetually single, unbelievably horny. That's me!

“Let me get those,” he said as I climbed out of my seat and bent down. Hilarity ensued and we ended up butting heads hard. Let's just say Preston Ellis left that class with a bleeding forehead, and I left with the world's bluest balls. Or ovaries? How does that work? Aw, fuck it. You know what I meant.

Case in point: I was horny as hell and there was nobody, and I mean nobody, that was going to be able to do a damn thing about it.



I headed to the store after class, drawn by a sale on Valentine's Day candy and wine. Last year, I'd spent the stupid holiday alone. This year probably wouldn't be any different. I mean, it's not like I was desperate for a man or anything, it's just … it would be nice to have a date on Valentine's Day for a change.

You didn't have to be so rude to Quinn, I told myself as I navigated between necking couples whose osculating I could only handle so much of. He was just giving you chocolates. I mean, even if all he really wanted was sex, why not give it to him?

I tripped over the shoes of a man emerging from the Personal Hygiene aisle and fell face first into a bin of Valentine's Day pins. I almost screamed as I was submerged in white buttons with red and pink hearts, but before I could drown on Cupid kitsch, a strong hand was being wrapped around my waist. The mystery man pulled me out and spun me around.

It was Quinn. Again.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said as he kept his arm wrapped around my waist. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me.” I raised my eyebrows at him and then my eyes caught on his opposite hand, and what was clutched in it. A box of condoms.

“Getting ready for the big day already?” I asked him as I tried to untangle myself. All the while, the skin on my lower back between my shirt and jeans was tingling from the touch of Quinn's fingers. He stepped back and raised his hands in surrender.

“You got me,” he said with a wink. “After all, I knew you'd agree to come out with me eventually. Pick you up tomorrow maybe?”

“Right,” I said as I tried to walk away. Quinn stopped me with a hand on my arm, drawing my eyes around to his. They were so bright in his tan face, like two portals to the Caribbean. I could so vacation in there.

“You sure you don't want to hang out with me tomorrow? I'd make it worth your while.” I paused and gave Quinn a once over that started at his red Mohawk and traveled all the way down to his bulging biceps, tight T-shirt, and landed on the bump in the front of his jeans. I wanted to say yes, but I was also ornery and had a bit of an acidic tongue that my mother could never quite curb. I think I was also allergic to being nice.

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